


History Rewritten

by Lucky_Dreamer



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Genderbending, Multi, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14122860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky_Dreamer/pseuds/Lucky_Dreamer
Summary: Alexandra Hamilton travels to the struggling America to find a new start after her town had been swept away to disruption after a hurricane. Having next to no idea how to dwell on ideas, she is brash and and quick to do things she doesn't think over. New York is her second chance to become better then who she is. She doesn't know what to expect but she is willing to do anything it takes to do what she think is right. Even if others don't agree with her.





	History Rewritten

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about Alexander Hamilton with selective liberties. I changed many things from actual history and have taken ideas from both history and the musical as inspiration and created this mess. Other characters will also be genderbent while most will stay the same. There is no guarantee this story will finish but I really hope I can because I actually like the story I have in mind for this. I hope you like as well and continue to read as much as I write.

1774, 

Had I been anyone else, receiving a scholarship to study in America would have been a dream. But, for some reason, it felt short lived. I remember writing for a newspaper and before I knew it, I found myself to stepping on a boat for the thirteen states. All throughout this trip, I have felt uneased. Like everything would fall apart if I wasn't careful enough. nothing ever fell into my hands this easily. Everything before this had passed by so quickly that I couldn't even take a moment to dwell on it before having to move on. I couldn't stop to cry when father left. I had to make money somehow. I couldn't cry when mother died either. Even with a fever, I had to get up. I had to get up and do something. Sitting there morning wasn't going to do anything. I knew that. I let that follow me. But, now, I sit here and I have nothing to do but dwell on everything that had happened. 

I remember my mother's pleas to my father for him to stay. I remember him just shoving her to aside and walked out of the doorway with half a glance towards me as my brother tried to run up to him. The sound of the wooden door slamming was what he was met with. 

I remember when the fever broke out after a storm. I hadn't realized I had caught it until I could stand anymore. Mother caught it soon after. I knew she was significantly worse than I was. I knew that she was trying to make it. I knew she wasn't going to. I remember sneaking into her bed during the night and I would push my face into her neck and raised the blanket over me as a way to shut out as much noise as possible. I remember when Mother would smooth down my hair and softly shush me to sleep. It only took a few nights for me to hear her last attempt at calming me. 

Everything blurred. Everything happened and left. The sad part is that most won't remember them. Most won't care for one person who left their family. Most won't care for one single person dying of fever. Only a few will remember them and even fewer will continue to care. Sometimes, people say I would be better off dead then be here in this day and age. Everyone is fighting. Next to nowhere is safe and when you think everything has calmed down, something will happen that will exceed the last tragedy. Most people will forget the past battle in place of the newer ones. That is just how it is. People move on just as fast events do. The ones who dwell for too long are the ones who are left and are forgotten. 

I'm a writer thanks to my mother. She told me knowledge is power and since she couldn't read or write, she had to rely on father for income. She told me not to settle when you could do better yourself. I learned how to read and write by taking the newspaper clippings in the shop I worked at. When Mother died, I moved in with a cousin who seemingly had the same thoughts as me and left this world on his own will. After that, I knew that the only one who was going to help me know was myself. I took studying seriously and would memorize as much as I could from the few books and reading material I had. It was all I had but I didn't have a second chance back then. 

Now, I can't hold back. People don't know who I am. People don't know where I come from. I can start over again. Everything and anything can happen. I can do everything and anything. I can't wait any longer playing mindless survival games trying to see the next day. Now, I won't hold back. 

..................

I look up to see New York City coming close. After so long at sea, I almost missed the sight of land. Inhaling a deep breath, I look back down to my page of writing. Silently, I sighed it off correctly just before folding it softly with hopes the charcoal wouldn't smear too much. I placed my folded work in my journal before standing to look around the boat. I heard the sailors on board yell to each other about the sails and wind direction as they turned the boat to face the incoming port. People at work, readying the boat to come to a stop. Other passengers coming up from below with their luggage and families. 

Noise began to fill the deck with a scattered sound of children laughing and running around. People talking about the city we were approaching while others spoke about products being imported into New York. How I wished I could find my way into the crowd. I knew if I tried, people would part, making a noticeable path for me to walk through. 

I didn't try. Instead, I stood in the mists of them. Alone, but ready. 

.................. 

In New York, you could be a new man. I can only hope that that saying applies to me as well. 

\- Your Obedient Servant, Alexandra Hamilton


End file.
